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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28265043">light a candle in the window</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumalalu/pseuds/Lumalalu'>Lumalalu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cunnilingus, Multi, PWP, Trans Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, dp, like its not even melodramatic or anything., this ones rlly just porn i swear.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:47:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28265043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumalalu/pseuds/Lumalalu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Castle Blaiddyd is made of stone, and the winters make it cold. Dimitri's bed is warm.</p><p>-</p><p>i have made dimitri into a sandwich. that's it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>light a candle in the window</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>happy (late) birthday dimitri enjoy the Dick.</p><p>the title is nonsense dont think abt it too hard. also if it reads rushed thats bc It Is &lt;3</p><p>lessee what else. dimitri's no op and felix is post op, used words like dick, cunt, hole for both of em.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time Dimitri finishes his work - second draft of Sreng treaty, responses to King Khalid and Dedue, checking new reports about that pirate issue in Fraldarius, and so on and so on and so on - the moon is fat and bright in his window, and he thinks, Shit. There is nothing Dimitri dreads more than missing an appointment with Felix. Dimitri adores him, but Dimitri is not blinded to his… Felix-ness.<br/>
<br/>
Then, again, he’s the one who’s always late. It’s usually his own fault. Dimitri is trying, really, but - there is so much that needs to be done. He does not recognize the boundaries of his borders, is not familiar with the Roundtable lords ancient intrigue or the formerly Adrestian public’s general opinion on Brigid’s freedom. There is a whole history soaked in blood, and there was nothing he could have done to prepare to mend it. Dimitri needs it - he needs to be good. Sometimes, he forgets this also means he must be well, if only for his people and not for himself. Tries to remind himself with patience that there are those who worry and care for him, that he can rely on, and his internal dialogue sounds suspiciously like Byleth.<br/>
<br/>
Well, nothing to be done for it now. Time marches on, and Dimitri scoops up the long-cold plate and mug, nearly drops them on his rush out the door, prays for speed and luck and Felix’s mercy. Perhaps that’s unfair phrasing; Felix has been trying, too, struggling to find a way to hold peace in his hands and not break it. Sylvain will be there, as well, and he should not have to play the mediator for them. Best they don’t argue at all. Not today at least.<br/>
<br/>
There are a few servants in the kitchens chatting over a late dinner. Dimitri apologizes for the extra dishes, tries not to mind the way guilt settles over him. People that are here to help him, Dimitri thinks in Mercedes’ voice. Also, he’s <em>late</em> - that one is Felix.<br/>
<br/>
Dimitri is probably not that late. Servants and the occasional dignitary bustle or roam the halls, respectively. The oil lamps still burn, and there are lights on under half the doors he passes. Dimitri is anxious, still, wishes to be with them.<br/>
<br/>
It is a rare occurrence that he can spend time with his Sylvain and his Felix outside of their work. And, even then, sometimes work finds its way in anyways. Dimitri could not count the number of rides that turned into discussions of diplomatic missions to Sreng, or arguments Felix dragged from the court to their lunch. They may not have the whole day together, but the night and tomorrow morning is theirs. Dimitri doesn’t want to eat the time away by his own carelessness. Intends to enjoy it, and carefully clears the dozens of little distractions that cling to his skull like cobwebs. Fire would do better.<br/>
<br/>
Dimitri nods to his guards, slips into his rooms. It’s quiet and still in the solar. Dimitri shrugs off the weight of his cloak, jacket, folds them over the back of a chair. He always feels a little out of place here, the textures too soft and smooth it almost feels like the furniture isn’t real, and the space so large it makes him feel like a child again. Someday, he will have to change it all. Dimitri will die in this bed, he may as well enjoy it.<br/>
<br/>
Like Sylvain and Felix seem to be.<br/>
<br/>
It is the first thing he notices when he eases his door open. The bedroom is very much not quiet or still. There are the wet sounds of an open mouth working against skin, and the drag of fabric against fabric, Sylvain’s little grunts. Felix has him pinned to the headboard - that can’t be very comfortable, where’d they put the pillows? - and his teeth in Sylvain’s throat, bruising, hands squeezing his tits. One of Felix’s legs is pushed between Sylvain’s. Well. Dimitri supposes they were too occupied to come drag him from work. He almost doesn’t want to interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
“D-Dimitri,” Sylvain manages, pulling on Felix’s hair. There’s spit on his skin, and indents. “Ah… hey, there.” Felix turns, gives Dimitri one of his Looks - the one that an unrepentant cat might give you after you caught it in the pantry. Dimitri’s gotten better at reading Felix these days.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, you don’t have to stop on my account - I’ll just... ?” Dimitri stops himself before he can finish the sentence. This is his room, his bed, his<em> lovers</em>. Dimitri’s starting to lose his patience a bit. One more reminder; he does not need to apologize for existing and taking up space. Also, if Dimitri implied in any way that he did not feel welcome here, Felix would definitely know and he would definitely have his head. Small blessings, that he is too distracted to notice.<br/>
<br/>
“We were supposed to surprise you.” Sylvain says, catching his breath, casting a pointed look at Felix.<br/>
<br/>
“This was entirely your fault. <em>I</em> wanted to go get him, but then you -” Felix cuts off. Goes bright red. Which is a little silly because he’s still got his hands on Sylvain’s chest and a leg against his dick.<br/>
<br/>
“Surprise me how?” Dimitri thinks for a second. “This works. I am surprised.”<br/>
<br/>
Sylvain huffs a laugh and detangles himself from under Felix. He makes grabby hands at Dimitri and Dimitri follows without thinking, deeper into the blue and gray room. He stops too far away, apparently, and Sylvain tugs him closer by both of his hands. When they kiss, Dimitri can feel the sticky remnants of gloss, and wonders if it was sweet, if it was licked off. Probably not. That’s more Sylvain’s style than Felix’s. It’s a good thought, though, and Dimitri dwells on it while he sucks Sylvain’s lower lip.<br/>
<br/>
“We planned something nice for you.” Dimitri doesn’t ask why. He knows there isn’t a reason for it, really, other than - it’s hard to admit it to himself. It’s easier to accept good things when he knows it’s because others want to give him good things. Sylvain scratches lightly at the base of Dimitri’s skull, pressing where the tension of his neck bleeds into his head. “It’s kinda late though, if you’re too tired, we can -”<br/>
<br/>
“I am not too tired.” Sylvain gives him a Look, too, a victory grin just post checkmate, teasing. Dimitri flusters, but he also gets to see Sylvain’s sharp edges soften and glow against the candle-and-hearthlight, beautiful and open and honest. Dimitri would do anything for him.<br/>
<br/>
So when Sylvain pushes off the bed and walks around to Dimitri’s back, keeping him in place with just a hand on his shoulder, Dimitri stays still. Felix settles against - ah, there’s the pillows - splays out like he belongs right there, in Dimitri’s bed, kissed soft and with messy hair. Dimitri isn’t sure what he’s watching so closely for, until Sylvain is untucking his shirt and playing with the buttons, asking, “May I, your Majesty?” far too sincerely for it to pass as playful. Instead, it is reverent, and Dimitri suppresses a shiver.<br/>
<br/>
Dimitri never quite knows what to do with his hands when this happens. He can feel that Sylvain is hard in his pants, shameless with how he presses into Dimitri’s backside, warm all the way down, peppering kisses and nips into his jaw. The attention is overwhelming, too sudden, Sylvain’s hands underneath his shirt, burning, Felix’s searing attention. Dimitri almost feels helpless. He rocks back, to hear Sylvain hum, to feel him better. Catches Sylvain’s wrist to kiss his hand, to breathe in the sharp and cold scent of him. Closes his eye so he doesn’t have to see the way Felix looks at him, devouring.<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Sylvain says low when he needs to pull his hand away, kisses apologies to Dimitri’s skin. He makes quick and practiced work of Dimitri’s buttons, folds his shirt neatly away. Constriction garments are a bit more difficult, but Dimitri lets Sylvain take care of his binding, too, breathes in shaking air when Sylvain presses on the reddened and sore skin.<br/>
<br/>
“Dimitri.” Dimitri looks. Felix has tossed away his sweater - on the other side of the bed, where Sylvain <em>probably</em> won’t go to get it - and sits near the edge, fingers low on his stomach. Dimitri keeps looking, is allowed to look, and Felix is a work of art - something severe and wicked. There aren’t many scars on his torso except for the ones under his chest, and the ones over his ribs, and a pair of punctures on the back of his left shoulder. His hair is longer now, unruly, drapes dark over his shoulders like ink. Felix looks back, a proud little tilt to his head, and Dimitri is breathless.<br/>
<br/>
The tension is ruined a bit when Sylvain squeezes his tits, making Dimitri startle and yelp. Felix’s smile, and Sylvain laughing “Sorry, sorry,” are just as good, so it’s no great loss.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t let go. His hands are rough and gentle, cupping and playing with Dimitri like some treasured thing. Dimitri can - he can feel the beginnings of a writer’s callus when Sylvain pinches at his nipples. Dimitri pushes into Sylvain’s touch, sure he is blushing down to his shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
Dimitri loves them. It’s all he can think about, mind blessedly quiet, thoughts burnt away with expertise. “Sylvain,” he sighs to the ceiling, just to say it, just to have the name in his mouth. Sylvain takes his tilted head as an invitation to work a bruise into his throat, pets and gropes his way down Dimitri’s belly. There’s a quiet shuffle of clothing, and Sylvain makes a muffled groan, hips twitching and then rutting - Dimitri opens his eye again.<br/>
<br/>
“Take his pants off.” Felix demands, trained on where Sylvain is touching Dimitri. Ah…<br/>
<br/>
Felix has his legs spread, is bare and blushing just as hard as Dimitri is. Dimitri - <em>wants</em>, he can feel his mouth fill with saliva and his underclothes are sticky. Felix is working at his cock, wet smeared on the insides of his thighs, unblemished so far, shameless though embarrassed.<br/>
<br/>
Sylvain is slightly more clumsy with Dimitri’s pants. He bites Dimitri’s shoulder, probably harder than he meant to but it’s fine, it’s <em>good</em>, he should bite harder next time - and shoving them down is a bit of a production because Dimitri hadn’t taken off his boots, but they get it done. Sylvain seems like he doesn’t really want to stand back up, Dimitri can feel his breath on his cunt, and restless hands squeezing his thighs. Dimitri has to fight the urge to push out, to encourage, but Felix has expectations in his expression so Dimitri is still. “Come here.” He says, quiet, as soft as his voice can get. If Dimitri stumbles, forgets where his boots have been left and trips, he can hardly be blamed.<br/>
<br/>
Kissing Felix is a desperate mess. Dimitri doesn’t know what he’s allowed to touch, so he settles for everywhere - ankles, trailing up Felix’s legs, squeezing his hipbones which makes Felix bite and pull on Dimitri’s lip, over his ribs and thumbing at his scars, shoulders, neck, face. Dimitri is perhaps a bit overzealous, but he cannot help it. “What can I do?” Dimitri asks, begs, never far away. Felix pulls him back a bit by his hair, too gentle for it to really sting.<br/>
<br/>
“This is for you. Do what you want.”<br/>
<br/>
He wants so <em>much</em>. Everything, he wants everything, Dimitri never wants to be without again. Felix is pliant when Dimitri kisses him again, and again, and once more before he’s at Felix’s neck. Shoulders. Chest. Felix’s hand in his hair tightens with a sting when Dimitri draws his nipple into mouth. Each rib gets its own kiss, his teeth for Felix’s hips. Down, further.<br/>
<br/>
Felix’s scent is thick enough that Dimitri could choke on it, wants to, badly. He breathes in deep - “Disgusting.” Felix says, and even with the exasperated fondness of his tone the word still makes Dimitri’s spine roll in his body. Dimitri turns into one of Felix’s thighs, close to the crease, laps at the taste of him and draws what scant fat Felix’s training regimen allows into his mouth, consumes. “Sylvain, can you get the - <em>fuck, Dimitri</em>,” Bites and rolls the skin between his teeth, wants there to be bruises where Felix’s legs touch.<br/>
<br/>
But he wants something else more. Felix’s cock is large and stiff. Earlier, he had drawn some of his slick over the head of it, and it’s wet and red and <em>right there</em>, Dimitri burns up with his want, feels it aching in his cunt. Dimitri works his arm around Felix’s thigh and over his stomach so he can pull the hood back, and finally finally<em> finally </em>gets something in him.<br/>
<br/>
Felix’s voice goes shaky. Dimitri doesn’t pay much attention to what he’s saying, just to the sound. When Dimitri flicks his tongue against the head, Felix’s pitch hitches and stumbles. Flat strokes make him hum, the threat of teeth gets Dimitri a sharp tug on his hair that has him squirming and clenching on emptiness. Sucking signals the end of whatever Felix was asking for, he moans loud and squeezes Dimitri’s head, gets wet against Dimitri’s chin.<br/>
<br/>
It’s when Dimitri moves to tongue at Felix’s hole that Sylvain touches him. Dimitri makes a sound - more as an acknowledgment than from pleasure - and in response Sylvain squeezes his ass and - oh. Pulls him apart.<br/>
<br/>
“This okay, Dimitri?” Sylvain asks, thumb pressed against Dimitri’s asshole. He can’t - will not move from Felix, so instead he moans low and lifts his hips up against the light pressure. Felix shivers at the sound against him, squirms against Dimitri’s mouth and tongue.<br/>
<br/>
A moment passes - where Dimitri licks back up to Felix’s cock, desperately wishing he could taste - and then the uncorking of a bottle and cool oil on his skin. Sylvain is a careful and thorough person. This is something Dimitri greatly admires about him, though Dimitri admires a great deal of things about Sylvain, too many to name. Right now, it is a torment.<br/>
<br/>
Sylvain teases and soothes and eases Dimitri open. Dimitri has a hard time relaxing for these things, but Sylvain’s other hand is an open palm stroking down his back, rubbing the places where pain and tension gather in knots. Dimitri can’t really beg - he could, but Felix is trembling around Dimitri’s tongue, wet and viscous on his face, <em>close</em> - so he does the best with his body, and Sylvain is perceptive.<br/>
<br/>
Just the one, kind in its exploration, is not really enough to feel it. But the pressure of Sylvain in him, even just a small piece, makes heat pool heavy in his guts and slick run down his thigh. Dimitri <em>aches</em>.<br/>
<br/>
He is surrounded by sensation, feverish with the sweat half cooling on his skin and the closeness of human flesh. Dimitri wants and wants, selfish and greedy thing, and it is not enough to feel Felix come on his tongue, to hear him breathless and gasping, “Dimitri, <em>Dima </em>-!” Not enough to have fingers inside him, stretching him carefully open for something bigger. He keeps lapping at Felix’s come, and has to be pulled away.<br/>
<br/>
“<em>Animal.</em>” Felix rasps, and kisses Dimitri before he gets a chance to respond. Dimitri has no words, anyways, only vaguely begging sounds. Felix peels away from Dimitri’s clinging grasp, wobbles on his feet and kneels by the nightstand. Dimitri would follow, but Sylvain is still fingering him.<br/>
<br/>
“Felix,” he says, voice shaking and hoarse, but Felix only spares him a glance.<br/>
<br/>
“C’mere, sweetheart, Felix will be right back.” Sylvain’s fingers slip from him, grab Dimitri’s hips instead. Dimitri would complain, but he can feel the wet tip of Sylvain’s cock against his leg, and instead goes quiet with anticipation.<br/>
<br/>
Sylvain settles into Felix’s spot against the headboard and the pillows. He sprawls just as comfortably as Felix had, right at home, is home. There’s a roundness to his belly that Dimitri has noticed before, but notices again every time. His hair grows in thick and soft, it catches the light of the fire and gilds him. Sylvain has the oil, but Dimitri hasn’t gotten to touch him once tonight, so he sets his hand over Sylvain’s, not quite grabbing. “May I?” Sylvain grins, lazy and relaxed.<br/>
<br/>
“Knock yourself out.”<br/>
<br/>
Dimitri is clumsy even when he isn’t, ah… bothered, and he tries to be careful. He spills too much into his palm, but Sylvain always says there’s no such thing as ‘too much’. And then he ends up complaining about dubious stains on his sheets, anyways.<br/>
<br/>
Sylvain’s cock is angry and red and dripping, thick in Dimitri’s hand. Sylvain lets out an indulgent little sigh, rolls up into the touch. Dimitri knows Sylvain - has touched him and, on some occasions, watched him touch himself, knows what to do to him. Drags his thumb down the biggest vein, makes Sylvain twitch and spill, watches the flex of his stomach muscles as he moves with Dimitri. Dimitri could get him close, but he is impatient and empty.<br/>
<br/>
“Sylvain,” Dimitri sounds breathless in his own ears, “I want - can I… please.” Sylvain laughs at his stammering. Dimitri can allow it - he’s embarrassing. He knows this.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes. Turn around first.”<br/>
<br/>
It’s not an odd request. Dimitri likes watching Sylvain’s back, too, especially the way he flexes and rolls and rides. So, it doesn’t really stand out that there’s mischief in his eyes. Sylvain’s just sort of like that.<br/>
<br/>
He’s also desperate, so he doesn’t take notice of anything beyond the heat of Sylvain’s body between his bent legs, Sylvain’s hand on his hip guiding him down. And he can’t really be blamed for not looking at anything too closely when he sinks down Sylvain’s cock, gets to hear Sylvain groan. They haven’t done this in a while, the sting of it taking Dimitri’s breath in short little grunts, even though he’s going - well, as slow as he’s able. Sylvain’s grip is tight, and he hopes that later there will be red crescents.<br/>
<br/>
So it’s a surprise when he sees Felix.<br/>
<br/>
The harness is a familiar look on Felix’s hips, the dark leather stark against his skin, eating up all the little light in the room. Felix has already affixed a dick to the ring - glass, with smooth bumps and a curved body. It’s one of Dimitri’s favorites. Perhaps Felix knows that. His face is pinched and unsure, and as soon as Dimitri meets his gaze he blurts out, “You don’t have to if you don’t want -” Dimitri fumbles a bit behind him - where did he put the? Ah. Dimitri cuts Felix off by handing him the oil. Leans back against Sylvain - which is delightful, he is so soft and strong and wide against Dimitri’s back, and also because it jostles his cock - and spreads his legs out. It’s embarrassing to present himself so, but Felix’s eyes go dark and wide.<br/>
<br/>
He’s very full already. But Dimitri can take more. “<em>Please</em>,” he begs, hoarse. Felix looks pained with wanting.<br/>
<br/>
The wait is horrible. It only takes a few seconds, but they stretch into eons, and Dimitri doesn’t try to stop himself from wriggling in Sylvain’s lap, taking what he can without moving far. He can’t see how Sylvain takes it. He can feel it - Sylvain’s teeth are in the slope of his shoulder, the puffs of his breathing shivery and sometimes erratic. His fingers twitch against Dimitri’s hip bones, and Dimitri can feel how tense he is, feels it everywhere. Dimitri sinks into him, impossibly further.<br/>
<br/>
“Be still.” Felix hisses, grabbing Dimitri’s thighs and holding them up and away, and Dimitri can’t really move much anymore like this. “Can you be still?” Drimitri nods frantically.<br/>
<br/>
Felix’s fingers in him make him shout and squeeze, Sylvain gasps and his hips hitch involuntarily, and whatever spot he brushes against is - the shout drags itself into a wail, half because it’s not enough and half because Felix is curling his fingers like an <em>ass</em>. Dimitri’s so wet, he’s spilling all over himself, Felix’s hand, and where Sylvain is buried in him. Felix bites his lip, pulls Dimitri open and just looks. Goddess, he can be so cruel.<br/>
<br/>
“Aw, Felix, don’t tease him.” There’s a pleading note in his voice that makes it sound like Sylvain’s begging for himself, too. He’s been remarkably good, and still, always so patient. Dimitri wants him to come, wants to feel it. Wants Felix. Wants and wants.<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry,” Felix whispers, hastily oiling his glass cock. He holds Dimitri’s thighs up again, the ease that he can move Dimitri’s weight around - Dimitri, who is too large, sometimes wishes to shrink and be small instead - it burns in his gut and makes him whimper. Between Dimitri’s arousal and the smooth glass, Felix pushes so easily in. In fact, it almost seems like he went faster than he meant to, hastily looking from Dimitri’s cunt to his face. He needn’t worry.<br/>
<br/>
The curve of it drags against his walls, each bump pulling at his hole. It’s cool, makes Dimitri shiver. He swears he can feel it pressing against Sylvain through the barrier of his flesh, and he hopes Sylvain can feel it too.<br/>
<br/>
Goddess forgive him, it’s still not enough.<br/>
<br/>
“Please move.” He manages. Dimitri hardly recognizes his voice with how thin it is, how quiet. He nearly sobs when Felix fucks him, shallow and quick - Sylvain can’t move as much, but the difference between the slow grind of his cock and Felix’s desperate pace has Dimitri dizzy.<br/>
<br/>
He feels - he feels helpless and flimsy and held, seen, adored. Sylvain gasps praise against his neck - “Good boy, so good for us, so sweet,” but it’s the “Love you, baby,” that breaks him. Dimitri can’t help crying.<br/>
<br/>
Felix swears, surges forward to kiss him. It pushes him deeper, and Felix’s skin sticks to Dimitri’s stomach and their chests are squeezed together, so very close. It’s probably not very pleasant, Dimitri tasting of salt, but when Felix pulls back he is wild-eyed and awe-filled, like Dimitri’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. They could kill him like this.<br/>
<br/>
Dimitri catches Felix before he can get far away, digging his claws into Felix’s back for good measure, which makes Felix squeeze his thighs in retaliation. There will be bruises. Dimitri hopes there will be bruises, on his neck where Sylvain keeps nipping him, his collarbones and chest where Felix has hidden his face, his hips and legs where he is being held. It aches, makes him clench and shudder, buck between Sylvain’s dick and Felix’s, but not very well, and certainly not enough.<br/>
<br/>
“Please, I need - let me -”<br/>
<br/>
He is summarily ignored. Sylvain grabs his chin and turns his face so they can kiss - messy and awkward with spit rolling down their chins. Felix manages to squirm out of his grip so he can push up Dimitri’s tits, get his teeth around a nipple and squeezes and - please, please, Dimitri’s so <em>close, please </em>-<br/>
<br/>
Dimitri can’t really come without his dick touched. He could fairly easily get to it himself, but Dimitri’s a good boy, wants to be good, needs to be good. And he wants - he doesn’t want to, wants to be touched. Dimitri reaches a hand back to tangle in Sylvain’s hair, soft against his rough skin, clutches at Felix’s shoulder like a lifeline and squeezes his legs around his waist, tries to hold himself in place just as much as he tries to hold his people to him.<br/>
<br/>
Sylvain moans at the pull on his hair, fucks a little rougher. Dimitri hitches and cries, clenches around him, reduced only to his greed and pleas. He’s shaking, he realizes, rocking mindlessly. It’s - they’re a mess, sweaty and oil-stained, and then - Sylvain hisses and whines and chases, uses Dimitri as best he can with the poor leverage, and then they’re a bit messier. It’s hot and wet and <em>inside </em>Dimitri, and as soon as Felix realizes that Sylvain is coming, he’s shoving a hand down to rub Dimitri off. That, too, is a surprise, “Ah, Felix!”, and Dimitri’s orgasm takes him in shockwaves. Squirms and bucks and cries, begs for nothing since he’s already got what he wanted.<br/>
<br/>
Dimitri misses the clean-up. He always does, tends to pass right out, but neither Felix nor Sylvain seem to mind much. If anything, they enjoy it, like being able to take care of him, of each other. Dimitri can relate. Dimitri wakes to Felix curling around his back, and Sylvain humming while he puts their clothes away and snuffs the fires. He feels the need to apologize for leaving them alone, or thank them, but holds his tongue instead. Dimitri finds Felix’s hand on his waist - “Oh, you’re awake.” - to pull it up and kiss Felix’s knuckles.<br/>
<br/>
His aches settle back in - knees and hips, back and neck - but it’s pleasant enough like this, warm and safe and relaxed. Better, still, when Sylvain climbs into bed and Dimitri’s outstretched arms. “Love you.” He manages, mumbling through cotton, feels a kiss on the back of his neck and his palm just before he drifts into rest.</p>
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